


Let Me Be Your Gateway

by xcourtney_chaoticx



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Episode: s01e28 The City on the Edge of Forever, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pre-Series, Romance, Sort of AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-05-30 01:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15085598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcourtney_chaoticx/pseuds/xcourtney_chaoticx
Summary: In 2256, LT Spock falls through the Guardian of Forever and finds himself on Earth, in New York City in the year 1920. He is discovered by a young war vet named Jim Kirk, who helps him navigate and survive the city. Spock knows he must return to his own time and place, but as time goes on and he becomes more and more attracted to Jim Kirk, he isn't sure if he wants to. Leaving Earth will mean leaving Jim in a past where his future is anything but certain.(Rating going up for Chapter 5)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThereBeWhalesHere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereBeWhalesHere/gifts).



> A 'City on the Edge of Forever' AU that was prompted me by ThereBeWhalesHere.
> 
> This will become very slashy and I will upgrade the rating when the chapter comes along :)

"Are you machine or being?" Spock asks firmly.

Chris watches the young Vulcan approach the strange… object? Being? Life form? If LT Spock doesn’t know what this thing is, Chris certainly doesn’t. The away team watches the stone archway, lights somehow pulsing within its structure. Mist seems to flow from it and through it. Chris’ heart hammers as they await a response.

**"I am both and neither. I am my own beginning. My own ending… I am the Guardian of Forever."**

Its voice booms. Chris can feel it in his chest, the vibrations thrumming around his ribs. Its lights fluctuate with its speech, more mist frothing forth.

**“I am a gateway to multitudes. I am a gateway to the past of all places and of all times. Ask of me what you will.”**

“You can show us the past?” Chris asks, intrigued, “What of Earth’s past?”

**“If that is your wish, I will show it.”**

Images begin playing rapid fire across the interior of the arch. Chris feels his inner historian rear up, and he steps closer, desperate to see these images no one else has ever seen. _Incredible… This is just incredible._ They watch as prehistory, ancient history, everything Earth has ever stood witness to passing right there before their eyes. He steps up closer to Spock, and even though he knows Spock knows much of this, knows he is half-Human as much as he is half-Vulcan, he starts rattling off information about what they’re looking at.

“This is World War I, Spock… Just look at it… All the suffering and primitive warfare,” he says quietly, “They were using gas and guns with lead bullets and bombs filled with shrapnel, and for what? They called this ‘The War to End All Wars’ once… for all the good it did.”

“Did they not have another ‘war to end all wars’ not twenty years later?”

“Yes… and then we just kept having wars…”

Chris steps forward, wanting to be closer to this history he loves so much. He missteps somehow, starts falling forward. He hears Spock shout his name, feels himself being pulled back and around. He hits the ground hard on his ass. When he looks back to where he just was, he’s just in time to see Spock falling back through the portal.

“Spock, no!” he screams.

It’s too late. Spock disappears. Chris whips around, shouts, “Number One, get us in contact with the Enterprise!”

“Sir, I-… I can’t. The ship won’t respond,” she replies.

“What? Why the hell not?”

“I can’t say, sir.”

She’s maddeningly calm, but Chris forces down his anger. She doesn’t deserve that now. _Think, damn you! Think!_

**“Your vessel, your beginning, all that you knew is gone.”**

The away team all look to the Guardian.

“What does that mean?” LT Babatunde asks.

“What it means,” Number One states, “is that Spock has gone back in time and changed it… and whatever he changed has destroyed our future. Earth no longer exists, and nor does the Enterprise.”

xXxXx

He’s certainly not like anyone Jim has ever seen before. Jim has seen lots of different kinds of people, too. He was in the American Expeditionary Forces in the Great War, after all. He’d been to Europe and seen people from all over the world and seen people injured in manifest horrible ways- _Best not to think about that._ This man is very different… and that could be dangerous.

People who are obviously foreign aren’t always accepted in these parts or anywhere really. For now, Jim just hovers over the unconscious man, hoping he’ll wake up soon. Jim doesn’t know a hospital that would take him and doesn’t know where to take him instead. _I could always take him to Mrs. van Alst’s place, I suppose._ It’s clean and warm and most importantly it’s nearby. The man looks muscular and probably fairly heavy, and Jim isn’t sure how far he could carry him.

“Where are you from?” Jim mumbles, reaching out to touch the man’s shoulder.

There’s a loud gasp. Jim yelps and scuttles back as the man shoots up and scrambles to his feet. He breathes like a frightened animal, eyes darting over his surrounding, back pressed to the alley wall.

“Where am I?” he demands.

“New York City… the-the Gashouse District.”

“What year is it?”

“It-… It’s 1920… November. Do you know your name?” Jim asks.

“Yes, I do. My name is Spock.”

“I’m Jim Kirk. Do you know where you’re from?”

“Of course I know where I’m from,” he says like Jim’s stupid, “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you didn’t know where you are or what year it is. Usually follows that if a fella doesn’t know those things, he doesn’t know the other two, either,” Jim explains.

Spock searches his face for a moment, the expression of judgment disappearing, before telling him, “I’m not from here. I’m from a place called Vulcan.”

“In Colorado? Yeah, I would left there, too. Business there all died.”

Confusion passes over Spock’s face but disappears as quickly as Jim sees it, his expression schooled into something blank. Jim struggles to his feet, his leg threatening to give out under him. Spock does not offer help. _That’s okay. I don’t need help._

“Well, you seem to be a long way from home, Spock. Do you need a place to stay?” Jim offers as cheerfully as he can.

“A- A place to stay?”

“Yeah. Y’know, a place to sleep and all that.”

“I do. I am newly arrived and don’t know anyone,” Spock replies.

“You know me. You can stay at my place,” Jim says, “C’mon, just follow me.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, Mr. Kirk? I don’t exactly… fit in. My ears…”

Jim looks to him again, notes the delicate upsweep of the tips of his ears, agrees, “Hmm… yeah, no one around here has ears like that… and your clothes are kinda strange, too… I know, here, you’ll take my hat and coat. That’ll disguise you a ‘lil better, Spock. And ya better stick close by me. Gashouse District isn’t exactly the best place to be even in the daylight.”

Another flicker of confusion crosses Spock’s face. Jim takes his elbow, though Spock quickly pulls out of his grasp, making him stumble.

“Mr. Kirk, are you alright?” Spock asks.

“I’m fine… my leg just doesn’t agree. I could, uh, could use some help.”

Spock slowly offers his arm, and Jim takes it. They’re silent as they make their way to the small boarding house. Only when they’re close enough to see it does Jim explain, “I live here for a pretty good rate… got a small room on the first floor. See, I’m kinda a handyman.”

“Handyman?”

“Yeah. I do ‘lil fix-it work. I can fix just about anything, y’know. I fix stuff for the other tenants, and I do work for an old woman who runs a mission house, Mrs. van Alst. I’ll take you to meet her tomorrow and get you some clothes while we’re at it.”

“I don’t intend to be here very long.”

“That’s okay. That’s how cities are. Sometimes people don’t stay for long.”

Something about Spock’s statement bothers him, however. He likes this strange newcomer very much. It wouldn’t be at all bad if he stayed for the long term. For now, Jim simply limps his way up the steps to unlock the door and lets them in, showing Spock the way to his room.

“It’s a pretty nice room… actually has a private washroom and two beds. Almost sold the extra bed once, but now I’m glad I didn’t. I just gotta put some fresh sheets on and it’ll be ready for you.”

“I don’t have any money to offer you in repayment.”

“That’s alright, Spock. Like I said, I live here for a good rate. It’s part of my compensation for being a handyman. I get actual money, too. They take out a dollar a week for lodgings, and then I pocket the other three for wages. It’s not bad.”

“Is that a lot?”

“It ain’t a fortune, but it’s enough. Close to what I made in the Army.”

“You were in the Army?” Spock asks, brows knit.

“Yup. The AEF.”

“What is the AEF?”

“The American Expeditionary Force. Christ, you been livin’ under a rock?” Jim chuckles, flashing Spock a smile.

“In a sense, yes,” Spock replies, “I am not in touch with current affairs.”

“You’re one of the few then. Felt like the war touched everyone and everything… still feels like it a lot of the time… ‘course I’ve got a few reminders to carry around.”

Jim emphasizes his words with a pat to his bad leg. Spock’s eyes flicker down but he remains silent. Most people ask about his leg right away or pretend nothing’s wrong. No one notices it without asking what happened, but that’s precisely what Spock does. Jim simply goes into the bedroom and puts clean sheets on the spare bed. Spock watches him with a curious expression, completely silent. _Maybe he was in the war too but doesn’t wanna talk about it._ Plenty of guys that were in the war don’t want to talk about it, including Jim. He’ll mention some basic facts, but he won’t talk in depth.

His scars talk for him usually. His left leg was badly wounded in the Argonne Forest in September of 1918, the wound that finally sent him home. Before that, he caught a piece of shrapnel in his right cheek at Belleau Wood in June, and his side was grazed by a bullet at Château-Thierry in July. Lots of people were hurt worse than he and more are afflicted with worse mental scars, as well. Overall, Jim is lucky. He’s got a job and a place to live. There are some men he served with that have neither.

“Where are you going?”

“Pardon me?”

“When you leave New York,” Jim asks, “where do you plan on going?”

“I need to return home.”

“To Vulcan?”

“Yes… to Vulcan.”

Spock’s voice is flat, but there’s a hint of emotion underneath, something wistful and perhaps slightly untruthful, like he’s leaving something out. _That’s not really my business, though._ Jim simply puts the finishing touches on the bed, asking, “Do you need something to sleep in?”

“Unless my sleeping in my undergarments will bother you, no.”

Jim’s stomach gives a strange flop as he replies, “I was in the Army. There’s not much that bothers me anymore, Spock.”

He’s a quiet sort of fellow, doesn’t talk much unless it’s necessary or in reply, and sometimes he doesn’t even reply. Still, Jim kind of likes him. He can’t really say why, especially when he knows next to nothing about the man. What little he does know may not even be the truth. _But I like him._

“So, I hafta be up kind of early to get out to Mrs. van Alst’s place to do some work for her. I guess you’re welcome to come with if you’d like… and if you’re willing to do a bit of work,” Jim says.

“If I can be of assistance, I would be happy to accompany you, Mr. Kirk.”

“Okay, good, and when we’re through there, we’ll head to the mission to get you some clothes of your own. I don’t think mine’ll fit you well at all. Think I’m a ‘lil thicker than you.”

Finally, Jim is gifted the ghost of a smile as Spock replies, “I am inclined to agree with you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too funny with any cracks like that. I’ll look in the morning for ya for some old clothes of mine. I put on some weight after the war, so some of it might fit you… ‘course, you’re not exactly the skinniest fella yourself.”

“I never said I was.”

Jim cracks a grin, says, “Y’know, I like you, Spock. You’re actually a funny guy.”

“Am I?”

“When you wanna be, it seems like… Say, are you hungry?”

“I’m fine for now.”

“Okay…” Jim tells him, “y’know you’re welcome to anything here: food, clothes, even money-“

“Please, Mr. Kirk, you’re far too kind. I don’t intend to impose on your hospitality like that,” Spock says.

“It’s not imposing if I tell you it’s okay,” Jim smiles, “I’m happy to have you here. I-… I don’t really have many friends here, so… so it’ll be nice to have you while you’re here.”

 _Not that I had many friends in Iowa, either._ Spock’s expression seems to soften slightly. Heat flushes Jim’s face, a sign of embarrassment at having let too much slip, and he tells Spock, “Well, umm… I’m, uh, I’m gonna make some dinner real quick and then go to bed. Just lemme know if you want anything.”

“I simply don’t wish to be a bother when it comes to food as I do not eat meat,” Spock replies, “It can be a difficult diet to cater to.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal, Spock. I’ll just be sure to buy you some fruits and vegetables while we’re out tomorrow, too.”

Once the stove is lit, Jim turns to look at Spock with a grin.

xXxXx

Spock doesn’t quite know what to make of this Human. This time period on Earth is marked in the histories as having people who only cared for themselves, but Kirk so easily opened his home to Spock. Kirk offered him shelter and clean clothes and food without knowing a thing about him other than his name. He didn’t even question Spock’s certainly odd appearance.

“Are you sure, Mr. Kirk? I don’t wish to be any trouble.”

“It’s like I said, Spock. It’s no trouble at all,” Kirk smiles.

 _He smiles a lot._ As a Vulcan, Spock is unused to a lot of smiling, even though he has spent the last few years among Humans as a member of Starfleet. Humans generally vex him, but this one is particularly vexing: a soldier who is soft, wounded and wanting to prevent suffering, closed with his history and open with his emotions. Sometimes he looks like no more than a boy and then the light catches his features, assuring Spock he is a grown man.

Kirk makes a simple meal of cooked ham and potatoes, with Spock choosing to partake of the potatoes and some beans.

“So tomorrow we just have to work on Hephzibah’s fence-“

“Hephzibah?” Spock asks.

“That’s Mrs. van Alst. Anyway, she needs work done to a fence, and she usually has some interior work to do, too. I hung curtains for her last week, and she gave me an extra dollar.”

“Will this Mrs. van Alst try to offer me money, Kirk?”

“Probably… and you should just take it. She’s very stubborn when it comes to payment, won’t take no for answer,” Kirk explains, “You could use it for veggies for your dinner.”

Spock raises his eyebrows but says nothing, just quietly eats his potatoes and beans. There’s a small argument when they’re done eating about who will do the dishes, and Spock manages to win. Doing something like that will make him feel more useful, more like a guest and less like an intruder.

Kirk goes to bed shortly after, and Spock follows, stripping out of his Starfleet uniform. The linens are clean and soft, though Spock worries he needs a good wash. Unable to fall asleep right away, he watches Kirk. The young man is thick-built, neither fat nor muscular. ‘Soft’ is the first word that springs to mind. His hair is like bronze, his eyes the color of honey. _That is far too poetic a description… but not untrue._

Spock had worried he would find only hate and violence when he accidentally entered that portal on the small planetoid and ended up in Earth’s past. It is curious indeed that he should only be met with kindness. Spock finally allows himself to drift off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: mentioned war wounds (past)

“Are you quite sure this will be an adequate disguise, Kirk?”

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. We’ve got those pointed ears of yours covered, as well the tips of your pointed eyebrows. You’re wearing more appropriate attire. I think you’ll fit in fine, Spock.”

“On all those points, you are correct, however, I do not have quite the same… hue as everyone else here.”

“People come in plenty of colors.”

“Green is not generally one of them.”

Jim stands up from his bed, looks Spock in the eye. He wasn’t going to say anything about it or ask any questions about heritage, especially since Spock had seemed reticent about it. Now, however, it appears Spock wants to talk about it. His stance and expression aren’t exactly uncomfortable looking, but Jim can almost feel his nervousness.

“I-… I feel obligated to be entirely truthful with you, Kirk, especially given your kindness and generosity toward me,” he says quietly, “You have already come to the correct conclusion that I am not from Earth.”

“I assumed, but I didn’t wanna be rude.”

“I am from a planet called Vulcan, a desert planet with no moon, located in a star system sixteen light years from Earth, which translates to many trillions of miles.”

Jim feels his eyebrows raise slightly, replying, “You’re quite a long way from home… but I don’t understand how you’ll get back there without a spaceship.”

“I would be amenable to explaining that to you later this evening, but for now, I believe we must go visit your Mrs. van Alst. It is almost half-past seven now.”

“Oh yeah, we gotta get going. It’s not a long walk, but it takes me a while sometimes,” Jim tells him, grabbing his cane, “I think today is gonna be a long one, Spock.”

Spock says nothing, and Jim isn’t sure if he’s grateful or not. Together, they set off for Mrs. van Alst’s home. It’s not too cold out yet, so that’s good for them.

“Kirk, I would appreciate more information on this Hephzibah van Alst,” Spock says after a while.

“Oh, she’s just a nice, wealthy old lady,” Jim answers, “Her husband, though, was a mean bastard right up until the day he died, so Mrs. van Alst has become very, uh, philanthropic with her late husband’s money. She donates to orphanages and schools and hospitals and all that. She has a few charity cases like me who work for her as staff.”

“Staff?”

“Yeah, staff. Y’know, like maids and a butler and a driver… um, she also has a housekeeper, a couple cooks… and a couple fellas like me for groundstaff. I mostly just do extra projects for her, like hanging curtains, fixing furniture or plumbing, mechanical work, even electrical. I’ve actually learned a lot from working for her. She’s the owner of the building I live in, too, so that’s how I live there for cheap. It’s actually a bit more expensive for other tenants. They pay two dollars a week.”

“I thought you said this Gashouse District was not a good part of town, and it is my understanding that these bad parts of town are less expensive.”

“We’re on the edge of the Gashouse. It’s not quite so bad there, but in the city, there’s always something bad that can happen, Spock.”

“That is the same in any part of the galaxy,” he replies.

“Woulda thought you space aliens were more civilized than all that.”

“Vulcans are quite civilized. Rather, we are more logical. Our logic allows us to live an existence relatively free of violence.”

“Relatively?”

“There are always outliers.”

Jim laughs quietly. _He really does have a sense of humor._

“I can’t wait to have you tell me all about Vulcans tonight, Spock. You’re a very interesting man, after all,” Jim tells him.

Spock’s high cheekbones color a faint green, and Jim hopes no one looks too closely at him. People usually don’t in the city. _Mrs. van Alst will, and she’s not stupid._ His only saving grace is that she is also incredibly tolerant and open-minded, so perhaps Spock just telling the truth will work. He decided to tell Spock about some of the people they’ll encounter at the van Alst property.

“… and there’s her granddaughter, Edith, who stays with her on occasion,” Jim explains brightly, “She’s a lovely girl, very lively, wonderful personality… age about twenty. She’s very smart, too. See, Mrs. van Alst is a big believer in humanity, thinks one day we’ll stop spending all our money on war and death and instead spend it on education and science… maybe one day we’ll even go to space.”

“I have no doubt humanity will do so.”

A small smile graces Spock’s face, the first Jim has seen, and he feels his stomach give a happy flop. He is a very handsome man, with dark brown eyes and silky black hair, built tall and muscular. Even the greenish tint to his skin is lovely.

“Ah, here we are, Spock. Undergrove Manor.”

“It is impressive.”

xXxXx

By Vulcan nobility standards, Undergrove Manor is humble, but from what Spock has seen of New York City, it’s lavish. It’s several stories tall with lovely grounds, all surrounded by a wrought iron fence and a smaller wooden fence within. Two men are already working in a patch of garden. Kirk fishes a set of metal keys from his pocket, using one to open the gate before ushering Spock in. He greets two of the men working, and they give him a warm reply.

The interior is richly decorated with vivid colors and lush fabrics. A young woman of African descent brings them to a decorative door that opens into an elevator.

“You know where you’re goin’, Jim. Mrs. van Alst is in her usual study.”

“Thank you, Hannah. You’re an angel,” Kirk smiles.

The girl smiles back, giving him a small wave as the door closes. The elevator creaks noisily on its way up to the third floor. This corridor is more plainly decorated, less color but a close inspection yields the same high quality. Spock lifts an eyebrow, drawing a finger over a small statue of a man in a Classical style.

“Jimmy! There you are!”

Hephzibah van Alst is a petite old woman with white hair and sharp blue eyes, dressed in a simple gown of violet. Jewels glimmer at her throat and fingers.

“You’ll forgive my accouterments, Jim, but I’m dealing with a wily fox of a man on a business transaction and I have to intimidate him.”

“What is it this time, Mrs. van Alst?”

“I’m purchasing a building and donating it to become a place where war veterans can stay free of charge if they have nowhere else,” she says excitedly, “In exchange, they could help with the upkeep and cooking meals and laundry and that sort of thing if they’re able. What do you think?”

“I think it sounds lovely… Oh Hephzibah, I’d like you to meet my new friend, Spock. He’s newly arrived here in New York, and I figured he could help with some of the work.”

“Spock, is it? Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. Any friend of Jim’s is a friend of mine. Where are you from?”

“Quite a long way away, ma’am,” he replies.

She steps closer, gives him a thorough look, tells him firmly and with a sly expression, “I may be seventy-five years old, Mr. Spock, but I still have all my wits about me.”

“In that case, ma’am, I come a planet called Vulcan in a nearby star system, though ‘nearby’ is a relative term,” he replies, “I beg your pardon, but that is all I prefer to reveal at this time.”

“It’s enough for me,” she smiles, patting his arm, “Well, I suspect you’re living with Jim already, so I won’t offer you lodgings unless you’d prefer your own.”

“I am quite satisfied living with Kirk,” he says, half-surprised to hear himself speak the truth.

“Lovely. I will pay you two dollars a week. You’ll come with Jim to work when he does, and an extra dollar here or there can be arranged, especially if you’ll spend some time with me speaking about your planet Vulcan.”

“Mrs. van Alst, payment is unnecessary-“

“Poppycock, of course it’s necessary. I insist you accept payment.”

“Then I accept it.”

“Good. Now then Jim, that old wooden fence of mine needs some mending. Ask Harry which section when you get outside. He’ll tell you. And please tell Hannah to keep some tea and coffee on hand to keep you all warm. It was very nice to meet you, Spock.”

“And you, ma’am,” he replies, “Good day.”

“Good day, boys.”

They’re quiet as they descend the elevator, only pausing for Kirk to speak with Hannah before they go outside. The weather is chilly but not freezing. Coming from a desert planet, however, it’s a bit cold for Spock’s liking. _I can handle it._ Outside, they speak to an African man called Harry who directs them to the area of the fence needing repair. Kirk looks it up and down, gives it a thorough inspection. He clicks his tongue a couple times as he runs his hands over the wood.

“Looks like it just needs a new post there, which is easier than I thought it was gonna be,” he finally says, “C’mon, we’ll get the tools and get to work.”

Spock simply follows Kirk to a large shed, allows him to select the proper tools and materials, carries what Kirk cannot.

“Do you have wooden fences on Vulcan?” Kirk smiles.

“We do not. There is not enough wood. Our structures are largely comprised of stone, metal, or glass. On occasion, they have been carved into mountains.”

“Sounds lovely, Spock… Well, in that case, you better watch me, because I can tell you we’re gonna spend a lot of time fixing this fence. It’s been here since the house was built over a hundred years ago.”

“Undergrove Manor appears to be new construction.”

“Because most of it is,” Kirk explains, getting to work, “Philip Maddox was Hephzibah’s grandfather. He built the original structure in 1813, a little farmhouse, and it stayed a little farmhouse until after the Civil War. By then, her father had made lots of money in the railroad industry. Hephzibah’s husband, Alexander van Alst, transitioned much of the business to steel production, his family’s business which he rightly perceived as being more lucrative. Hephzibah’s family was an economic powerhouse in their own right, so their marriage was a sort of… business arrangement between their families.”

“My planet has similar arrangements for marriage, though ours are usually based on psychic compatibility rather than economic reasons.”

“Oh, plenty of Earth people marry for love, but sometimes the wealthy don’t have the same opportunity. The van Alsts did have two children, a son Philip and a daughter Helen. Philip married for money. Helen married for love. Edith is actually Helen’s daughter.”

“You mentioned Edith earlier, expressed that you were quite fond of her.”

He ignores the strange twinge of jealousy.

“I like her, certainly, but she isn’t really my sort of girl. She likes to go to parties and wear fine clothes and drink newly illegal champagne. ‘Course I’m not exactly her type, either… but we’re friends. She is a nice girl, and I hope you get to meet her.”

They fall silent. Spock watches Kirk work, closely observes his fingers as they manipulate the tools and materials, feels himself blush slightly. He should not be watching this man’s hands so closely. It’s far too intimate for him to be doing so, but he’s so fascinated. Kirk’s hands are rough and broad, very unlike most Vulcans, but they are obviously capable of very delicate work. _My interest lies only in the differences. It is a scientific fascination._ He keeps telling himself that.

xXxXx

Jim finally sits with a groan, plate of dinner in front of him. They’d stopped for a bit of food shopping on the way home to stock up on some vegetables for Spock. Jim made dinner over Spock’s protests again, making a meal of mostly vegetables they both could enjoy after Spock expressed he could consume some animal products like chicken stock and eggs.

“So, are you gonna tell me more about Vulcan, Spock- Actually, that’s a good question. Is Spock your first name or your last name?” Jim asks.

“It is my given name, although it occurs second due to Vulcan naming traditions. I would tell you my family name, but you would be quite unable to pronounce it, Kirk.”

“That’s a bit unfair. I’m a pretty smart fella, y’know.”

“Of that I have no doubt-“ and that makes Jim feel pretty damn good, “-but most Humans have a great deal of trouble pronouncing Vulcan.”

“Most Humans? Then you know other Humans?”

Spock is quiet for a moment, eats a few more bites of food, dabs elegantly at his mouth with a napkin, and Jim waits expectantly for him to speak.

“I mentioned earlier that I would tell you more about where I am from… but that will also entail telling you when I am from.”

“Whe- When?”

“Yes. I come from the 23rd century, the year 2256 to be precise. I’m here without a starship of any kind because I traveled without it,” he explains calmly, “I am part of a starship crew that landed on a small planetoid. My captain, a Human called Christopher Pike, asked that I and a small scientific party accompany him to the planetoid to examine it. On its surface, we encountered a strange circular stone structure.”

“What was it?”

“Something half-structure and half-being. It referred to itself as the Guardian of Forever, a being who could see all of time laid out before it. There was an accident of some kind. My captain tripped, and I caught him before he fell through, however, this unsteadied me. I fell into the Guardian instead and was sent here. I woke up to you, Kirk.”

“How are you gonna get back?” Jim asks.

“I… am still in the process of formulating a plan. It will certainly not be easy, but I will find a way to return to my own time,” he replies firmly.

Jim is ashamed to feel upset when Spock says that. He drops his gaze down to his plate and takes another bite of food, unsure why he feels that way. After taking a moment to collect his feelings, Jim speaks up, “C’mon, Spock, tell me more about Vulcan.”

“There isn’t much more to tell you about the planet. I’ve already said it’s a desert with no moon,” Spock says.

“Then tell me about the people. What’s society like? How’s the future?”

“Vulcan society has been unchanged for many millennia, ever since the Time of Awakening, when Surak provided Vulcan with the _Kir’Shara_ , a book of teachings related to controlling emotions to achieve logic and peace. Before then, my people were prone to extreme violence. They almost drove themselves to extinction. The use of logic has enabled my people to survive the millennia.”

“So you don’t… feel?”

“On the contrary. Vulcans feel their emotions quite deeply,” he replies, “We are simply able to categorize and control our emotions in order to seek logical conclusions. There are some who have chosen to turn away from the teachings of Surak, but the majority of Vulcans do follow them.”

“Vulcan sounds like an interesting place. I’d like to see it.”

“I wish you could as well, but I’m afraid it’s quite impossible. Earth will not establish first contact with Vulcan until 2063.”

“Well, that’s a compelling point, but you didn’t have to be quite so honest, Spock.”

“Vulcans are famous for our honesty, Kirk. We are known to never tell lies.”

Jim mumbles, “Yes, I noticed,” before returning to his plate. They sit in comfortable for a few moments until Spock says, “I would like to know more about you, Mr. Kirk. Your history seems most intriguing.”

“Oh, I’m not all that interesting,” Jim tells him, “I’m just a farm boy from Iowa who went to France to fight the Krauts and thought he was saving the world. It’s the same story as plenty of fellas have. They went to France, they got shot, and they came home worse for wear. War does that.”

“What of your family?”

“They still live in Iowa, my parents and my brother and his wife. I still write them once a week, and sometimes we can even talk over the telephone. They don’t have one in the house, but there’s one at the local drugstore, and we have a communal telephone here in the building.”

“Are telephones expensive?”

“Kinda, yeah, and you have to pay for telephone service. I can’t afford it, and neither can my family.”

“In my time, everyone has access to communication.”

“Are you sure you can’t bring me with you to the future?” Jim asks.

He’s half-joking, smirking at Spock across the table. Spock, however, fixes him with a strange look, his dark eyes seeming to look right through him. Very quietly, he says, “That is a conversation for another time, Jim. I must find a way home first.”

Something in Spock’s voice is hopeful, and that paired with the use of his given name makes Jim’s chest tighten painfully. _I don’t want him to go… not without me._ The thought is a terrifying one, that he could be so attached to someone in such a short time. Jim does not sleep well that night.


	3. Chapter 3

Spock has been in 1920 for one month with little progress on getting home. He’s figured out a plan of action, but to do anything, he needs to build a computer in order to access the information on the tricorder.

“It’s a recording device,” he’d explained to Kirk, “but in order to access the recorded information, I need to link it to a computer.”

“A what?”

“An electronic machine used to analyze information and to access it. However, it may be difficult for me to obtain the necessary materials as they are likely rare and expensive in this time period.”

“Could Hephzibah help you?”

“Perhaps, but I am loath to further infringe on her kindness… and yours.”

Since Spock doesn’t need to eat quite so much as a Human, he’s been able to save a fair amount of his wages, but it hardly seems to be a fortune. _Though I will soon need to buy more vegetables, and that will cut into my funds._ The weather is getting much colder than when he arrived in October. Cool weather he can handle. Nights on Vulcan were cool. New York City in November feels downright cold, though many of its denizens don’t seem to mind it.

When Kirk took Spock to the 21st Street Mission, owned by Mrs. van Alst, Spock had managed to find some warm clothes that fit him fairly well. Mrs. van Alst also gave him a coat after he’d mentioned he came from a desert. The cold will get to him eventually, however. It’s only a matter of time before a short healing trance won’t work, but he hopes to be gone before then… ‘hope’ being the operative word.

That hope currently looks a bit ambitious. A quick check on the cost of components shows a rich price of at least fifty dollars, and then once he has everything, he has to put it all together and make it work. _All while I am working with the electronic equivalent of stone knives and bearskins._ It’s not going to be easy, but when has Spock’s life ever been easy? This is just something else for him to overcome.

He hasn’t told Kirk what he needs, worried the man’s too-giving nature would make him spend money on Spock. It’s the same reason he says nothing to Mrs. van Alst. He has no doubt she would happily purchase all the materials he would need, but he refuses to infringe on her kindness any more than he already has. He does have about twenty dollars put aside for his computer materials. Another month must pass before he can even begin to leave 1920. _I will be leaving 1921 instead._ With a quiet sigh, Spock rises from the couch in the small sitting room to join Kirk in their shared bedroom.

Spock also doesn’t require as much rest as a Human, so for a moment, he simply watches Kirk sleep. The young man sometimes sleeps fitfully, his war wounds making him uncomfortable. Tonight, he seems calm: drawing in deep and even breaths, his chest rising and falling in a predictable rhythm, eyelids fluttering. The sight sets a strange tugging sensation in Spock’s abdomen, right where his heart is located. Fear creeps into his mind.

As soon as he can, Spock must leave Earth of 1920, and that will mean leaving everyone behind… including Kirk. The prospect of leaving Kirk has become more and more unsettling. He is a good man, kind and gentle and beautiful, and Spock is terrified to think he’s been falling in love with Kirk for the last month. _It can’t be. He can never love me, and even if he does, I cannot stay to keep loving him._ The whole situation is unfair.

Kirk’s demeanor suddenly shifts, anxious energy pouring off him in thick waves. His body curls in on itself, a whimper escaping his lips. The sound goes straight to Spock’s heart. Kirk begins shivering though sweat is beading on his forehead. _He’s having a nightmare._ Nightmares are likely a common occurrence for him, especially due to the war, but he hasn’t yet had one while in Spock’s company. His heart aches for the man, and he makes a split second decision, likely a bad one, but one he feels he must follow.

He stands, coming to Kirk’s side, and gently presses his fingers to specific points on the side of Kirk’s face, silently urging him to remain asleep. Through his touch telepathy, Spock offers him calming thoughts, wordlessly pulling him from the darkness in his mind to a happier place. His body soon relaxes, and Spock withdraws his hand, resisting the urge to card his fingers through Kirk’s lovely brown hair. He simply returns to his bed to try and sleep. When Kirk wakes in the morning, he looks refreshed and happy, and Spock’s unease at their brief mind-meld slips away for a bit.

That afternoon, he sits with Mrs. van Alst in her office.

“Spock, dear, you look uncomfortable,” she says, “What’s troubling you?”

“It doesn’t feel right to be sitting here talking while Kirk is off somewhere working.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d prefer to work than talk. He’s a ball of nervous energy, that Jim. If he’s not doing something with his hands, he’s fidgeting all over the place. Come, Spock, enough about Jim… Tell me what the future is like. You’ve told me about your planet and your people, but you haven’t told me of Earth.”

“I haven’t spent much time on Earth. I attended Starfleet Academy, which will be located in San Francisco. That took four years… and I spent a limited amount of time there as a child, as my mother is from Earth-“

“Your mother is a human? Not a Vulcan like you or your father?”

“Correct. My father was the Vulcan ambassador to Earth at the time, and my mother was a schoolteacher. She often recalls their meeting with fondness. My father does not, but emotional expression is uncommon among Vulcans,” Spock explains, “My father was being shown around an art museum at the same time my mother had her class there. He made a comment about the children’s rambunctious behavior, to which my mother gave a fairly scathing reply about the purpose of museums and offered him the chance to observe the rest of the field trip. The rest, as they say, is history, Mrs. van Alst.”

“A much better love story than I had. I was married off for money, and it wasn’t so much a marriage as a business merger to an awful man. Not that he ever outright mistreated me, of course. He knew if he did I would cause the most horrific scandal anyone had ever seen, would’ve gone to every newspaper in the country.”

“Kirk mentioned your late husband was not kind.”

“And I’ll be the first to agree. It’s why I do so much to help people now. My husband hoarded his wealth like a dragon and refused to use a penny of it to help anyone. Now…” she smiles, a wicked glint in her eyes, “Now, Mr. Spock, it is my wealth, mine to do with as I please. Therefore, I’m giving away as much as possible. I hope he’s rolling over in his grave, the old bastard.”

“You don’t wish to leave this wealth to you descendants?”

“They have enough. If they can’t earn it, they don’t deserve to have it. Tell me, Spock, is the future still like this? Do the ‘haves’ still have so much more than the ‘have-nots’? And do we still care so little for one another’s suffering? Are we-? Are we better, Mr. Spock?”

She speaks with such earnestness, with such a desperate need for knowledge, that Spock needs to think for a moment. He wants to use the right words.

“Humanity is better. There are still people who are poor and people who are homeless, but humanity is better. There are still some who wish to inflict suffering on others, and there still exists murder and war and other unspeakable crimes… but humanity has done amazing things you can’t dream of.”

“Tell me about them.”

“I am loath to pass on information from the future lest it change.”

“I shall promise to keep it all a secret… except perhaps from my Edie, but she’s an excellent secret keeper herself. Oh please, tell me some of these wonderful things.”

Spock hesitates, and Mrs. van Alst sighs, explains, “Mr. Spock, I am seventy-five years old. I saw my country torn apart by civil war. I watched a mob lynch a Negro man because he said hello to a white woman. I have seen people die from epidemics and disease and poverty. Just a few short years ago, I saw the largest war mankind has ever seen break out and kill millions of people, and the way the Germans are grumbling, I expect we’ll have another Great War within the next twenty years. Please… I need some hope for the future.”

“One day,” he replies slowly, “your government will stop spending money on war and destruction. That money will instead be spent on alleviating suffering and eradicating disease and the exploration of the galaxy. There is still war, but not among the peoples of Earth. All the threats come from outside your planet. You will not live to see these things, Mrs. van Alst, but I believe that much should give you hope.”

“It does… It does, Mr. Spock. Thank you. You should tell Jim all of this.”

“He should tell Jim all of what?”

He stands in the doorway, thick hair windswept, his cheeks and nose red from having been outside. Spock’s heart flutters in his side.

“Just about Earth’s wonderful future. Now, you boys get on out of here. You don’t have to spend your free time keeping an old woman company.”

“But we love your company, Hephzibah,” Kirk says with a smile, “In fact, there’s almost no one whose company I enjoy more.”

“First names, LT Kirk? Isn’t that a bit casual?”

A young woman enters the room, her short hair bleached very blonde, her dress expensively beaded, fur coat draped over her shoulders. Mrs. van Alst smiles and rises to greet the girl, saying, “Darling, you know Jim is the most wonderful young man who helps me here.”

“Grandmother, you say that about all the young men who help you here. Every single one of them is wonderful and kind and exceedingly helpful.”

“Well of course they are! I wouldn’t hire an awful, rude, useless man, would I?”

“No, you wouldn’t, which is what’s so infuriating. They’re too perfect,” the girl says, “Now, I know LT Kirk pretty well, but I’m afraid I’ve yet to meet this acquisition.”

She turns to Spock, smiling. He replies, “My name is Spock. I’m a friend of Mr. Kirk’s. You must be Edith.”

“I am. Do you know LT Kirk from the war?”

“Not exactly,” Kirk speaks up, “but military men know each other and can connect pretty easy. Shared experiences and all that.”

“Yes,” she agrees slowly, looking at Spock more closely, “but which military were you in?”

“He prefers not to talk about it,” Kirk interrupts, “Especially with everything that happened to him in the desert.”

“Does being in the desert turn people green now?”

“No, but… but experimented on does… right, Spock?”

The look Kirk gives him begs for agreement, so Spock agrees, “LT Kirk is quite right… but as he stated, it is an experience I do not wish to recount.”

Edith’s brown eyes go impossibly wider. Mrs. van Alst clucks her tongue, telling her, “Oh Edith, you must be more tactful, dear! This isn’t one of your picture shows! Not all young men who were in the war want to talk about it, and you know that. You’ve gone with me to visit the hospitals.”

“Yes, Grandmother,” she murmurs, turns to Spock, “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Spock. I oughtn’t have been so insensitive.”

“Your apology is accepted, Miss van Alst.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spock. Anyway, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us, I must speak with my grandmother about a private matter,” Edith says.

“Of course. C’mon, Spock, let’s head home for dinner,” Kirk says, taking his elbow, “Hephzibah, Edith, have a good evening.”

“And you… oh, and Mr. Spock?” Edith smiles gently, “The, umm… the green really isn’t noticeable at all… if that helps. You’re still a very handsome man.”

Spock replies, “Thank you, Miss van Alst,” and follows Kirk out into the hall.

“Now, Grandmother, that Thomas Keeler has been courting mother for ages now! You must speak with him and tell him to finally marry her…”

xXxXx

“So, Spock… Earth’s wonderful future?” Jim smirks.

“Those were Mrs. van Alst’s words, not mine.”

“Was she right? Is it wonderful?”

“As I told Mrs. van Alst, there is still war and disease and poverty and madmen… but it isn’t common. Earth no longer conducts wars among its own people. Governments instead focus their spending on the public good and alleviating suffering.”

“And apparently also space travel if we’re meeting aliens like you… It does sound quite a bit better than what we’re doing now, I’ll tell ya that.”

“Yes… Mrs. van Alst wanted hope for the future,” Spock says.

“But it wasn’t a lie, right? It’s all true?”

Jim stops, just looking at Spock, who ends up a few steps ahead. _It has to be true. He can’t be lying. He wouldn’t._ Spock’s stoic expression softens ever so slightly, and he steps close to Jim.

“Vulcans do not lie, Jim.”

_Oh, be still my beating heart!_ He feels almost lightheaded just from Spock using his name, can’t stop the silly grin from lighting up his face. Spock’s expression goes from soft to confused in a second.

“You called me Jim.”

“Yes. That’s your name.”

“But you’ve never called me Jim before. You’ve only ever called me Kirk.”

Green starts to color Spock’s cheeks. Still grinning, Jim slips his arm through Spock’s, continuing, “I like when you call me Jim, Spock. It’s nice. It makes me feel… happy.”

“I fail to see the difference between your names.”

“Oh, it’s just that ‘Kirk’ feels very clinical and professional. ‘Jim’ is much more personal… and I like, uh, I just like hearing you say it, is all.”

He knows it’s stupid. He shouldn’t have fallen in love with an alien from the future, but he has. Spock is just so smart and kind and strange and wonderful. Jim’s heart never stood a chance. Nothing will come of it, though. Spock needs to return to his own time, to his own people. _He would never want to stay here with me._ Shaking the dark thoughts from his head, Jim says, “Hey Spock, why don’t we go out to eat tonight? I know a nice Italian place. You can get pasta with no meat if you want and- _ah!_ ”

Jim’s bad leg buckles. If Spock were not holding onto him, he would have hit the ground. He bites back a swear, clutching hard at Spock.

“What happened, Jim? What’s wrong?” he asks.

“My leg-… It- it just gave out… does that sometimes. I just need to rest for a minute or two, and then I’ll be fine.”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t go out tonight.”

“No, I’ll be fine, Spock,” Jim replies, “Besides, I really wanna go out for dinner tonight. I’m sick of eating the same six things over and over. It’ll be something new for us.”

The ‘us’ rolls off his tongue so easily, and he likes the way it sounds. He and Spock would make an excellent ‘us.’ _But it can’t be._ That thought keeps haunting Jim, of how well the two of them could work together if only they could remain together, and the charade of pretending everything will be alright is exhausting. Jim sighs quietly, confident Spock will simply think of it as relating to his leg.

xXxXx

Kirk gives a quiet sigh, and it takes all of Spock’s resolve not to sweep the young man into his arms and kiss him. Longing and love and lust roll off Kirk in strong waves, like those Spock used to see in San Francisco Bay near the Academy. Spock knows he shouldn’t intrude on Kirk’s thoughts, but when they’re so powerful, they’re hard to ignore. _Yet I must ignore them._

“Why don’t we go out tomorrow night?” Spock offers, “We would have more time to prepare… and you would have more time to rest your leg.”

His eyes are the warmest brown as he looks up at Spock. _Oh, my t’hy’la… I wish things could be different for us._ Spock forces the despair down, packing it away to deal with later.

“You make a good point, Spock. Y’know, you’re a very intelligent man.”

“That has been said before.”

“How many times by me?”

“Twenty-four… now twenty-five.”

That elicits laughter and a smile from Kirk, and after another minute, he’s able to stand and walk back to the small apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> admittedly, this is kind of a filler chapter but it's an important filler chapter! The boys are falling in love!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: nightmares about war, mentioned death by gunshot, mentioned blood

Jim sits near Spock, asks him, “What are you doing again?”

“I am attempting to build a computer so that I may access the information in my tricorder.”

“In English?”

“It is difficult to explain to someone with no knowledge of computer basics.”

“Try and teach me, huh?” Jim smirks.

“Most simply, the dictionary definition of a computer is that it is a programmable electronic device designed to accept data, perform prescribed mathematical and logical operations at high speed, and display the results of such operations. The tricorder is a smaller computer device used to record data for input into the computer, especially for use in scouting unfamiliar areas, making detailed examinations of living things, and for recording and receiving technical data,” Spock explains simply, “Currently, I am unable to access the information in the tricorder without linking it to external power. I need to build a computer with a screen in order to properly view the data.”

“Exactly what sort of data are you looking for?”

“Anything that will help me return to my own time. The spot in the alley isn’t just a doorway. It’s a locked doorway. I believe there’s something I must do before I am able to return to the 23rd century. My arrival may have changed history in some way.”

Jim feels his brow furrow and asks, “How could you find that out?”

“I have several hypotheses, but the most likely is that once I have the tricorder plugged in, I’ll be able to access the history shown us by the Guardian of Forever and compare it to the history now shown by the tricorder. It should compare the points of divergence and highlight the initial divergence point. From that, I should be able to make an assessment.”

“O-Okay… I think I understood all that…”

“Essentially, the tricorder still originates from the year 2256, so it still has the ability to access all history occurring up to its most recent update. If history has changed, then the tricorder will now have access to that other history. With these two histories, I should be able to use the computer to find the original divergence point that created two separate histories. Does that make sense, Jim?”

“I think so. If… If you can fine the original divergence point, you can figure out if you changed history and how, right?”

“Correct.”

The smallest of smiles graces Spock’s face, an expression Jim is becoming familiar with. He’s sure that if anyone else were looking at Spock, they wouldn’t be able to see it, but he can. It’s a beautiful smile. _It’s a shame he has to leave._

January 1921 is cold, though not as bitterly cold as Iowa could get and with less snow. Spock seems to be doing alright for someone from a desert. Of course, deserts do get cold at night, so perhaps he’s used to it. Jim goes to the window, looking out onto the street, says aloud, “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to living in the city.”

“You seem quite comfortable in the city, Jim,” Spock replies.

“I suppose I’m comfortable, Spock, but I’m not used to it. The farm in Iowa was very quiet. I shared a bed with my brother, but it was quiet. No neighbors for miles. No noise but the animals. No lights but the moon and stars. The Army was very different. There were lots of us packed into a small space for sleeping and eating and everything. The war- well… I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Did you return home? To Iowa?”

“For a bit,” Jim replies, returning to sit next to Spock, “but that quiet I’d loved and missed was suddenly too quiet. My ears would ring almost constantly, and- and my night terrors would wake up the whole damn house and the barn. Strange… I haven’t had any in quite a while… not since you’ve been here, Spock.”

He looks almost bashful, says, “I’m glad my presence has been helpful to you.”

“In a funny way, I almost miss them. They were part of me for so long, it’s just odd not having them anymore.”

The two of them sit in silence for about a minute, one that’s not exactly comfortable, before Jim changes the subject, “So how’s your, uh, your computer coming along?”

“As well as can be expected in this arguable primitive era of electronics. I am missing a few key components, as they are made of expensive material like platinum.”

“Have you asked Hephzibah for help? I’m sure she would.”

“As am I, however, I don’t wish to infringe on her kindness any more than I already have. I would prefer to do this on my own, Jim,” Spock answers.

“Well, we would all like to do things on our own, but sometimes we need help. There’s no shame in having someone help you.”

Spock mumbles, “I know, “ and looks away, fiddling with some component. His cheeks are flushed a teal green. Jim bites back a sigh, says, “Hey, I’m gonna turn in for the night. I’m beat. Just don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“We have nothing to do tomorrow.”

The use of ‘we’ sets Jim’s heart fluttering.

“I’m aware we have a free day, but sleep is good for you.”

He doesn’t say that Spock sleeping near him is good for him. Spock’s usual retort is that he doesn’t need that much sleep, but he doesn’t use it tonight. He simply wishes Jim a good night, not looking up at him. The fluttering turns to an ache as Jim goes into the bedroom alone. _It’s better this way._

Jim should have known better. He’d been close with a man from his unit, a fellow corporal named Gary Mitchell. It could be said they were in love. Gary died at the Battle of Saint-Thierry, shot in the chest. Jim’s been thinking of Gary a lot lately. He and Gary knew their love wouldn’t be forever, that one of them would likely die and put an end to it, leaving the other heartbroken… but they had tried. They chose love and fear and heartbreak over regret, and even though Jim was the one left behind, he certainly never regretted it. He still doesn’t.

Sleep doesn’t come easily tonight, but it does eventually come.

xXxXx

Spock is finally able to relax as Jim goes into the bedroom. _I even think of him as Jim now._ The young man is becoming difficult to be around. Too many emotions roll off him all the time, emotions like love and adoration and longing. They wash over Spock and flow into his blood, make him feel those emotions as strongly as if they were his own. It’s troubling. He’s never felt anything like this before. He doubts he ever will again.

He sighs, puts down the part he’s been working on, closes his eyes. This wasn’t something he’d anticipated happening, not in the proverbial million years. _I should meditate sometime soon._ A good meditation will help him put his emotions in order. It’s just difficult in a foreign environment, and so far, Spock has only been able to meditate with Jim watching over him. They’re too close, Spock and Jim, much too close for Spock’s liking. It’s complicated everything.

Unable to concentrate on his computer, Spock decides to go to bed. He douses the lights in the sitting room, pauses to look out the window. The stars aren’t very visible in the city, only the brightest able to fight through the light pollution. He sighs again and heads into the bedroom. Jim is already asleep. Spock changes into his pajamas as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake Jim, and slips under the blankets. Sleep is thankfully quick to arrive.

It doesn’t remain long. Spock jolts awake at the sound of a shout. Jim lay curled up in bed, tangled in the bedclothes, clearly distressed. _He’s having a nightmare._ Swearing quietly, Spock quickly crosses the small room to sit beside Jim on his bed and reaches out to wake him.

“N-No!” he whines, “Please, no… please… not Spock…”

He freezes, his hand hovering just over Jim. _Why is he having a nightmare about me?_ This could be very easy. Spock could simply make the nightmare go away and let Jim sleep peacefully. He’s seized with a sick curiosity, though, wants to know what’s in this nightmare. The fear Jim feels is tangible, wrapping around Spock’s chest and making it hard for him to breathe. Spock grasps Jim’s shoulders and shakes him, saying, “Jim, wake up. Wake up… please, wake up.”

Warm brown eyes shoot open, wide and afraid. Jim scrambles to sit up, and Spock helps him, still gripping his shoulders, asking, “What happened, Jim?”

“A- A nightmare… a bad dream…”

“That much is clear. What was it about?”

“What are they always about? The damn war.”

“You-… You said my name. I was not in the war,” Spock says quietly.

Jim lets out a shaky breath, replies, “No, I know you weren’t… but in my dream you were. We were… We were at Belleau Wood. You, um, you got shot and died-… died in my arms. It was awful, Spock.”

His eyes are filled with tears. On instinct, Spock pulls him into an embrace, holding him close. Jim presses in with a soft sigh. He’s shaking from adrenaline still, his shirt damp with sweat.

“Guess I just don’t wanna lose you,” Jim murmurs.

Spock clutches him tighter. He doesn’t have a verbal response, so Jim continues, “It’s silly, of course… I have to lose you at some point. You have to go home.”

“Yes, I do… but I am here now. We have a little time.”

Nestling in closer, Jim whispers, “Will you sleep here tonight? In my bed?”

“Yes, Jim. I’ll sleep here with you tonight… and whenever you ask.”

His voice is quiet, and he’s troubled by the word floating through his mind: _t’hy’la_. Spock slips under the covers and wraps his arms around Jim once more. He tries to project calm and comfort, wanting his _t’hy’la_ to sleep well.

Their relationship changes after this night, but not perceptively. They become closer, no longer afraid of little touches and cuddling, and Spock is actually enjoying himself. He simply tries not to think of the future, focusing instead on finishing his computer. Out of options and unable to afford some of the pricier components, Spock finally confides in Mrs. van Alst.

“Spock, dear, why didn’t you tell me before? I’d be happy to help you,” she says, “I’ll have the butler pick everything up for you in the next few days.”

“I will be unable to pay you back, Mrs. van Alst.”

“That doesn’t matter to me. In any case, you’ve already paid me back. Remember, you gave me hope for the future,” she smiles, patting his hand.

Her emotions slip in beside Spock’s, peace and calmness and happiness and a hint of resignation. _She’s old. Her time is ending._ It’s something he’d sensed in Vulcan elders before, that sense of resignation that their time among the living is almost over. He will feel that resignation one day, too. Pushing away the dark thoughts, Spock thanks her for her assistance, and he’s able to finish the computer within the week.

Jim is out when Spock hooks the tricorder into the computer, his eyes rapidly taking in all the information as fast as he can. Everything seems fine until the 1930s. He sees a pair of names, James and Edith Kirk, who become prominent politicians and reformers. They speak out against war and poverty and effectively keep the United States from entering World War II, resulting in a complete takeover by the Axis forces. The Earth never achieved warp capability because war destroyed the planet. The United Federation of Planets never existed.

Pressing a few buttons, Spock finds the moment that has to be changed. His heart stops. He reads the article about a young man killed in November of 1920, shot in an alley for what little money he had. _No… it can’t be._

James Kirk must die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for all the love and feedback!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: strong sexual content, swearing
> 
> I forgot to mention last chapter that I was upping the rating, guess it kinda snuck up on me :)

Rarely has Jim seen Spock look horrified during their short acquaintance. The first time was when Jim went into all the gory detail about his wartime experiences. The second was when they heard a grieved wail from inside the building and Jim had to explain that Mrs. Wexler’s young daughter just died of rheumatic fever. The expression currently on Spock’s face, however, outstrips both previous.

“Spock?” he asks tentatively, “Spock, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t reply. Jim prods, “Is it your computer? Did it not work the way you want it-“

Spock’s chair clatters to the floor as he stands abruptly. He’s in front of Jim faster than Jim ever expected he could move, one hand wrapped around Jim’s arm in a painfully tight grip, pushing him until his back hits the wall. Adrenaline floods his body.

“Jim…”

Spock’s voice is brittle and quiet, a far cry from the power his grip displays.

“Please, Jim… do not ask me any more… do not ask-…“

His words are choked off, emotion clearer in his eyes than it ever has been. The fingers of his other hand brush Jim’s temple. _Sadness. Fear. Grief. Horror. Unfair._ Jim feels these emotions as strongly as if they were his own but somehow he knows they belong to Spock. _How is that possible?_

“Please do not ask me, Jim.”

“I didn’t- I didn’t say anything, Spock. I only thought something.”

“I am a touch telepath. If I am in contact with another being, I can read thoughts and emotions… and I can project thoughts and emotions.”

“That’s why I just felt what you’re feeling. Jesus, Spock, tell me what’s wrong.”

He shakes his head, “No… no, I can’t. I beg of you.”

“Please, Spock, let me help-“

Jim’s voice stills in his throat as Spock’s fingers come to rest on the side of his face, deep brown eyes boring into his. Spock’s voice is a murmur.

“Let me show you.”

Jim acquiesces almost instantly.

He’s awash in thick fog. Fear hangs heavier. In the distance, a voice calls him, one familiar and soothing. _Spock…_ He follows, instinct leading him to the one he seeks. Spock weeps here, kneeling in front of his computer as if it’s some kind of bizarre altar. He wears no shirt, and his chest bears open wounds seeping green blood where he tore at his flesh.

_What’s wrong?_

Spock doesn’t answer. Jim steps closer to look at the computer. His face is there, a wartime photograph in his uniform. It’s accompanied by a headline announcing his death.

_That headline is from months ago, Spock. I’m not dead._

_-You should be. You must be. You need to die if I am to return to my time. If you remain alive, you will change the course of history… and my future will never exist.-_

_Will you kill me?_

_-Jim… my t’hy’la… I could never…-_

Jim does not understand that word, and yet he feels as though he’s understood it his entire life. He wraps Spock in warmth and comfort.

_What will we do, Spock?_

_-I don’t know. I-… I’m afraid. I do not wish to lose you. I cannot remain here. My mere presence has altered this timeline.-_

_You could always take me with you… to the future._

_-I’m not sure that’s possible, Jim… though I wish very much it were.-_

The fog surrounding them becomes comforting. Jim tries to project every good feeling he can think of onto Spock, desperately wanting to comfort him. Slowly, they leave this place of thought and return to reality, their bodies still pressed together, Jim’s back to the wall. Spock’s fingers still caress his face, his touch so light that Jim can barely feel it. Their faces are close together, noses almost touching, breaths mingling. He would only have to lean forward a little and-

Spock releases his arm and steps away, shaking his head, saying, “Jim, we mustn’t.”

“Why not?”

“You are fated to die. I could not have all of you and then lose it.”

“Why not?” Jim repeats, “We have a saying here that it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. You can be sad when I’m gone, but you shouldn’t have any regrets-“

Jim is pressed against the wall again as Spock surges forward. The Vulcan kisses roughly, tongue plundering Jim’s mouth. He returns it with equal fervor, the room quiet save for the sounds of their heavy breathing and eager kissing. They’re desperate for each other. It’s wonderful. It’s perfect. Spock’s mouth is deliciously wet and a bit cooler than a human’s mouth, the flavor of him slightly more bitter but not bad.

When Jim finally has to pull away to breathe, Spock drops his head, ravishing Jim’s throat in lieu of his mouth. Jim’s fingers dig into Spock’s back, his breath coming in shaky gasps, his legs trembling.

“I love you, Spock,” he manages, “I- fuck-… I feel like I always have.”

“I believe I have loved you since I first saw you, Jim,” Spock tells him huskily, teeth grazing over Jim’s sensitive skin, “You saved me… and I wish I could do the same for you.”

“You already have. I’ve had three more months of life already than I would have if you weren’t here… and they’ve been spent with you. Even better, you’ve given me hope. Hope that, one day, no one will ever experience a war like the one I fought in. Hope that no one will ever starve, no one will die of preventable disease, no one will be a victim of hate… It’s more than I could ask for.”

Jim pulls him in for another kiss, this one slower and more passionate. Their tongues swirl together, each desperate for all the other will give him. _We missed out on so much, dancing around one another. I won’t miss out on any more._

“Come to bed, Spock,” he murmurs, briefly dipping his tongue back into his mouth, “Please… I want you to-“

“Yes, Jim. I desire that also.”

They go quickly, not feeling the usual chill in the room. Jim is on fire, feels love and lust and arousal more deeply than he has since the war. He drops onto his bed and pulls Spock in for another kiss, nipping and teasing at his lips. Spock’s hands roam his body. A moment passes before Jim realizes Spock is undressing him. Arousal floods his system, his cock already painfully hard.

“I will take care of you, Jim,” Spock tells him, kissing him gently.

“I want you to,” Jim smiles, “Just… you don’t have a strange alien penis, do you?”

“That is not my opinion, but of course to me, my penis is normal and yours is alien.”

Jim drops his head back with a laugh, feels lips press to his throat, says, “C’mon then, handsome, take off your clothes and let me see you.”

They’ve seen each other naked before. Living in close quarters will do that. So Jim is used to seeing Spock’s well-muscled chest and its dark hair, his nipples tinted green instead of pink. Dark hair also spreads down his arms and legs, making him look so deliciously masculine. Jim, however, is almost transfixed by the thick bulge at the joint of Spock’s thighs.

“Spock, you’re gorgeous… utterly gorgeous.”

His cheeks flush green, and he replies, “As are you, _t’hy’la_. You are beautiful.”

It’s Jim’s turn to blush, beckoning Spock down for another kiss, eyes slipping shut. He focuses on Spock’s mouth and all its pleasures, like the way Spock swallows his moan when one of those nimble hands wraps around his cock.

“Don’t you dare make me cum before you fuck me,” Jim manages.

Spock dips his head to nip at Jim’s throat, murmurs, “I shall endeavor to please you,” and kisses down to Jim’s chest. _Fuck…_ Jim is on fire. Every nerve dances with lust, and Jim allows himself to submit to Spock’s ministrations. His fingers dig into Spock’s muscular back, blunt nails raking over his skin. He’s desperate for Spock, for all of him, wants him now-

“Would you not prefer I take my time, Jim?” Spock says huskily, fingers toying with one of Jim’s nipples, “We have waited so long… should we not take the time to enjoy this?”

“If you can keep me from cumming that long, then fine.”

“What if I could make you cum more than once?”

The smirk Spock wears is wicked, and Jim about cums on the spot. Standing up, Spock slips his underwear off. Jim’s mouth waters. His cock is average in length but thick, flushed a deep green, already slick with some kind of natural lubricant. It looks fairly human, the only difference being a couple of extra ridges below the head. Jim quickly shimmies his underwear the rest of the way off, and Spock dives back down, kissing Jim all over his chest and belly and thighs.

Jim gives a gasping cry as Spock’s fingers work their way into his hole, slick and wonderful, and he presses back against their touch.

“Please, Spock-! Please-!”

xXxXx

Spock burns with lust. Jim is beautiful, his body flushed pink and covered in sweat, cock nested in golden-brown curls. He can feel Jim clenching around his fingers, and as much he wants to take everything slow, his need is becoming desperate. _He is desperate, too._ Lust rolls off Jim in thick waves, overpowering all of Spock’s senses. It’s intoxicating.

“Jim,” he murmurs against kiss-bitten lips, “ _Ashayam_ … my most beloved…”

“Yes, Spock,” Jim pants, “Yes, I’m yours… your anything, your everything…”

His mouth is sweet and hot, his tongue moving in sinful ways. His fingers all but claw at Spock’s skin. His thoughts are a torrential whirlwind of lust and need, all focused on one desire. _Yes, Jim._

Taking his cock in hand, Spock places the tip at Jim’s hole and presses in slowly. Delicious noises drop from Jim’s lips, whines and whimpers and gasps. The heat and emotion of the situation has Spock cumming as soon as he’s fully buried, filling Jim’s hole with thick spurts.

“Well, that was quick,” Jim teases, “What are we gonna do now?”

“I am going to keep my promise to you,” he tells Jim with a roll of his hips, “Vulcans have an amazingly short refractory period, almost nonexistent by Human standards. I am happy to give you a demonstration if you wish.”

“I’d love one.”

Spock fucks him slowly, takes his time, making Jim come apart bit by bit. He can hit Jim’s prostate with devastating accuracy. It’s beautiful. Jim babbles his way through it, endearments and filth falling from his lips in equal measure until he cums. It’s only because Spock has such excellent command of the nervous system and the like that he can stop Jim from ejaculating. That is something to save for later.

He can work even slower now. Jim’s pupils are blown, his warm eyes now dark, his skin flushed a deep pink.

“Jim, you’re beautiful…” he murmurs, “So beautiful…”

Spock rolls his hips in an easy rhythm, fucking Jim with care. His easily slides in and out thanks to the cum and natural lubricant, and it’s easy to forget everything. He forgets the grief and fear and every other bad thing, focusing solely on Jim and his pleasure, wanting him to feel good. Spock leans down, his face close to Jim’s but not to kiss him. The intimacy of that kind of closeness is what he desires. He wants Jim’s breath in his lungs and Jim’s heartbeat in his ears and Jim’s taste in his mouth. He wants to have Jim with him forever, wants him as part of his very soul.

They rock together, bodies in perfect sync. Jim’s hands are everywhere: Spock’s hair, Spock’s chest, Spock’s back, Spock’s ass. It’s wonderful. It’s amazing. It’s beyond any description in Standard or Vulcan. He gathers Jim into his arms, sitting with Jim in his lap. They’re as close as is physically possible.

“I love you, Jim,” Spock breathes.

“And I you.”

He isn’t sure if Jim spoke the words or thought them but he doesn’t care. Only the knowledge of the psychic pain he would endure keeps him from attempting to bond with Jim now.

“Spock-! Oh! Spock, yes, fuck me, Spock! Right there!” Jim cries, “Harder!”

_Yes._ He lays Jim back down and does as he’s told, fucking him harder, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the small room along with every sinful noise Jim makes. Jim’s movements are becoming more erratic. He’s going to cum soon, and so is Spock. Fire sparks up his spine, pleasure buzzing against his skull.

“Yeah, cum in me again, Spock… fuckin’ cum inside me, want ya to- _ah!_ ”

Jim cums hard, with a long sobbing moan, fingers digging into Spock’s back, striping his belly with white. Spock cums at almost exactly the same time, his ejaculate actually spilling out from around his cock. They remain locked together, panting, holding each other.

“Goddamn, Spock…”

“That was quite enjoyable, Jim. I look forward to doing it again soon.”

His grin is bright and beautiful as he pulls Spock down for a kiss.

xXxXx

It’s dark, darker than he expected, but he won’t let it deter him. He has to find someone. Spock had disappeared, leaving the future in disarray. There’s no more contact with the Enterprise because the Enterprise doesn’t exist anymore. Starfleet doesn’t exist. Earth may not even exist for all he knows. If he can find Spock, maybe he can fix everything. The Guardian told him what to do. He only hopes he isn’t too late.

_My uniform is a bit conspicuous though._ There’s no way to be inconspicuous, however, so he’ll have to chance it. Thankfully, it’s darker than he expected.

“No offense, fella, but you don’t exactly fit in around here.”

He turns. The woman is young and so very beautiful, with large eyes and bleached blonde hair. She could be wealthy. He doesn’t have time to respond before she continues, “Don’t suppose you got anywhere to sleep, either. That’s okay. You just follow me. I’ll get ya fittin’ in.”

“That’s… That’s very kind of you, miss. Very kind indeed.”

“Please, call me Edie. Everyone does. I’m just gonna get you all set up at the mission and then I’ll be back in the morning with a couple fellas. You can repay me by helping Jim and Spock with-“

“Spock? He’s here? I mean, you know where he is?”

“Goodness gracious, you know Spock? Are you from the future like he is?” she asks excitedly, “Are- Are you an alien, too?”

“No, I’m afraid I’m just a regular Human… but yes, I know Spock very well. I’m his captain, Christopher Pike.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: blood, injuries, death
> 
> (but don't shoot the author just yet give me a chance!)

“Jim, we are going to be late.”

“Oh, that doesn’t bother me one bit.”

“We promised Miss Saint-Clair we would meet her at the mission at precisely-“

“Nine AM. I’m aware, Spock… I’m just so happy right now.”

Jim burrows further under the blankets, pressing closer to Spock’s body. Fondness wells up in Spock’s chest, and he concedes a soft kiss to Jim before telling him, “We must get up, _ashayam_.”

With a sigh, Jim finally rises, and they both dress for the weather. It’s an awful, late January day, with whipping wind and rain that may as well be ice. The two men huddle together as they make their way over to the mission, trying to keep as warm and dry as possible. It’s a nasty, uncomfortable day, full of people splashing around under umbrellas and mackintoshes, trying avoid the deeper puddles.

“There you two are!”

“Sorry we’re late, Edie,” Jim grins, drops his voice, “We had, uh, had a late night.”

“Don’t be crude, LT Kirk… but I’m happy for you. Anyway, come along, there’s work to do- oh, Spock! I almost forgot. I met a Captain Pike las-“

“CPT Pike is here? Where?”

“Well, I sent him to pick up a few things for the kitchen but he should be back soon.”

Spock’s heart pounds in his side. _How did Pike get here? Why is he here?_ He didn’t think anyone would be able to find him in 1920s New York. How could they?

“You okay, Spock?”

“I-… Yes, Jim, I’m fine. Let’s get started on our work.”

“But your captain-“

“He’s a good man. You’ll like him, I think. I have not been under his command long, but he has… taken care of me. Some in Starfleet have not taken so kindly to a half-Vulcan officer, and Pike has given me several opportunities to put them in their place.”

“He sounds kind.”

“He is,” Spock almost smiles.

They head into the basement to do their work on repairing some tables and chairs. The work is easy and keeps Spock’s mind off everything from yesterday. Every so often, Jim will grin at him, occasionally leaning in for a quick kiss Spock willingly gives him.

“I’m hoping for a repeat performance tonight, Spock,” he whispers at one point.

“Are you certain you’re ready for it?”

“My body will have to be ready, because I certainly am.”

Jim’s smile is wicked, has Spock feeling his cock begin to stir.

“Please, Jim, we need to finish our work, and I cannot do so when you have me so aroused,” Spock tells him.

He laughs, a bright sound that makes Spock forget the damp, and they return to the table, trying to get the leg to stop wobbling so much.

“Spock?”

“Captain!”

Pike stands at the top of the stairs, an incredulous look on his face. He looks handsome as ever, his black hair slicked to one side and his eyes impossibly blue.

“Spock, I can’t believe I found you!” Pike says, bounding down the stairs, “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I am well, Captain.”

“I tell you, Spock, it was the damnedest thing. As soon as you disappeared through the Guardian, we lost all contact with the Enterprise. The Guardian told us something changed in the past that prevented our future from becoming reality. I suppose we were only safe because we were on the Guardian’s planet.”

“That would make sense. The Guardian seems to exist outside time. If that is so, then time would not affect anything in its vicinity.”

“I agree… but now we have to get back. Do you know what changed? What it is we have to fix in order to get back to our time?” Pike asks.

Spock swallows down the fear and grief. _He cannot know._

“I… I will explain later, Captain. In the meantime, I would like to introduce you to my companion, LT James Kirk. Jim, this is CPT Christopher Pike.”

“Sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jim greets, shaking Pike’s hand.

“And you, Kirk. Thank you for taking care of Spock. He’s very important to our ship.”

“The pleasure is all mine, sir. Oh, Spock, I just realized we’re missing some tools. I’m gonna go to the store to pick them up and I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Of course. Be safe, Jim.”

“I’ll do my best.”

When Jim is gone, Pike turns to Spock with a raised eyebrow, asking, “Really, Spock? ‘Be safe, Jim.’ What was that about?”

“Jim saved my life when I arrived here, and we have become… close.”

“I’ll say you have. You ought to be more careful when you’ve got a hickey, Lieutenant,” Pike teases, “I didn’t know you had it in you, honestly.”

Heat rises in Spock’s face, making him feel rather like a schoolboy being lightly scolded. He admits, “I hadn’t noticed the mark.”

“He is a handsome fellow, I admit that… but Spock, really… getting involved with a civilian from the past. You know this can only lead to heartbreak.”

“Vulcans do not-“

“Don’t bullshit me, Spock. You know how this ends.”

Pike’s eyes are too bright and too full of emotion. Spock looks away. _I have to tell him. I don’t want to… but I must._

“Captain-… Captain, Jim is the crucial point in time. He must die if we are to return home,” Spock tells him quietly.

The idea will be as abhorrent to Pike as it is to Spock. Pike’s nature is kind and gentle, and no matter how badly he wants something, he will not hurt an innocent. The look in his eyes reveals that truth. All he says is, “How?”

“If he lives, he will call for peace during the Second World War and prevent the United States from entering the war and developing the atomic bomb. This will cause the Axis Powers to do so first along with the Soviets. The resulting nuclear war will destroy the Earth.”

“Earth-? The Earth is gone?”

“The planet exists in our time, but with no life on it, Captain… if Jim remains alive.”

Pike swears quietly, steps away from Spock, scrubs at his face. _Yes, I know._ The captain speaks up again, “How-? Do you know how he was supposed to-… you know…”

“The article said it was a car accident. He was struck by-“

A scream sounds from the main level. Spock and Pike mount the stairs as fast as possible. Edith has her face covered, crying into a man’s shoulder. There’s a loud commotion out in the street. A man stands beside his truck in the downpour, horrorstruck. Two officers hurry to help, and Spock’s heart stops. _No…_

Jim’s sodden form lay in the street, blood rolling from the corner of his mouth. One of his legs is badly broken. _No…_ Spock runs forward, pushes people out of the way, drops to the ground beside Jim, ignoring the heavy rain. His eyes are still bright as they find Spock’s. The wheeze he gives is proof his lungs aren’t working, are filling with blood. With a shaking hand, Spock reaches out to the meld points on Jim’s face, desperate for a final memory.

He’s almost blinded by the pain. His chest throbs. His leg is on fire. The end is coming.

_-Don’t be sad, Spock. We had something wonderful.-_

_[Not for long enough.]_

_-But we had it. That’s what matters. We loved each other. That’s enough.-_

_[Ashayam, I shall never forget you. Not for as long as I live.]_

_-Don’t dwell on me. Love again, Spock. Promise me.-_

_[I cannot-]_

_-Promise me, Spock. It’s my last request. Someone else will come along, and you will love them… and that’s okay. It’s okay to love again with your whole heart.-_

Something painful rips open in Spock’s chest, but he agrees.

_[I promise you, Jim.]_

Jim attempts a smile through bloodied lips. Hot tears roll down Spock’s cheeks as Jim’s warm eyes go cold, life leaving his body. _No… no no no no-_

xXxXx

The sound that rips from Spock’s throat frightens Chris immediately. It’s primal and heartrending and filled with more grief than Chris imagined a sound could be. The lieutenant is hunched over Kirk’s body, his form shaking with grief. The crowd surrounding them is quiet now, no longer clamoring for information. His despair is palpable, the whipping wind and freezing rain and thick mist all part of it. Chris can feel it seeping into his bones. It hurts.

A strange noise reaches his ears, and he somehow knows it’s the Guardian beckoning them through, calling them back. Chris steps up, places a hand on Spock’s shoulder, whispers, “Spock, I-… it’s time to go home. C’mon…”

He shakes his head, dark hair flinging water. _I’m sorry, Spock._ He doesn’t really want to, but switches over to his captain mode, telling Spock, “Lieutenant, we have to leave now.”

A brief moment passes before Spock slowly stands, and Chris is able to lead him to an alley. They walk a few steps before the world around them dissolves into the Guardian planet. No one says anything to Spock, a fact for which Chris is eternally grateful. _Spock’s having a hard enough time as it is._ He simply looks to his crew.

“Let’s go home.”

On the Enterprise, Chris and Spock head straight for Dr. Boyce in medbay, and once the old doctor declares them both in good health, Chris brings Spock to his quarters, determined to let him have the privacy to grieve.

“Sir, I would prefer-“

“Spock, I just-… I want you to know that even though I’m your captain, I’m also your friend,” Chris tells him softly, “I care about you. This is-… This is possibly the worst pain you’ll ever feel, and I don’t want you to be alone… because you’re not. I’m here for you, Spock, and I want-… Hell, I don’t really know how to say it except to say that, however you have to grieve, let me help.”

Those last few words are like magic, like Joshua’s trumpets bringing down the walls of Jericho. Spock breaks down. He sobs like he never has before, like he doesn’t know how to be subtle about it. His expression is crumpled, tears pouring down his face, his body shaking hard. Unsure of what to do, Chris does the only thing he can think of to do and pulls Spock into his arms. The lieutenant clings to him, a drowning man seeking anything to keep him afloat, powerful fingers digging into Chris’ back.

“I’ve got you, Spock,” Chris soothes, “You’re safe. Just let it out. You’re safe here with me… Go ahead and let it out…”

A part of him supposes he ought to be honored to be the first Human to see such emotion from a Vulcan. _Half-Vulcan… we must remember he’s half-Human, too._ Chris pulls Spock a bit closer. He feels so deeply for this young man, a hybrid, forever a stranger in a strange land, too Human for the Vulcans and too Vulcan for Earth. Chris sometimes feels the same way, born to a place so deeply rooted in the earth he longs for it in space, so enamored with the stars he longs for them while on Earth. _Servants of two masters…_ Emotion wells up in his chest.

“I’m sorry, Spock,” he whispers, “I really am.”

Spock’s fingers twitch at his back, and Chris feels a profound grief, sorrow such as he has never known before. His whole body aches. It’s as though something deep inside him has been torn to raw bloody shreds, all fluttering around a gaping chasm of a wound. There’s a black hole, eating up every good thought and feeling and spitting out despair. Chris pulls in a shuddering gasp, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I loved him,” Spock manages, “I loved him, Captain.”

“I know… Spock, I know you did… and I know it hurts, and I know it feels like it’ll never get better, but it will. It’ll take time. All wounds take time to heal.”

“How can this wound heal, Captain?”

“In here, you can call me Chris… and it will heal as all wounds do. It’s very painful at the beginning. Any sort of memory will be almost unbearable. Then it begins to scab over, tight and unnatural feeling but not as painful as when it was fresh,” he explains gently, “There will always be scar tissue there, that reminder of the painful thing you’ve gone through, and like an old wound, there will be some days it hurts more than others. But you’ll have survived, and you’ll be stronger for it.”

“I feel like I may die.”

“It can feel like that… but you won’t.”

They sit in silence for a long while, Spock trying to overcome his grief and Chris trying to soothe it for him, both slowly reining in their emotions. Once enough time has passed, Chris says, “Alright… c’mon, Spock, let’s get back to work. Just-… It’s like my mother used to say: dry your tears, clean your face, brush off the dirt, and get back on the horse.”

“Back on… the horse? Captain, I don’t-“

“It’s an expression, kinda like ‘fall nine times and get up ten.’ Just means you’ve gotta keep going on with life no matter what happens.”

“Yes, Captain. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good… and Spock? If you ever need help with anything like this again, you’re welcome to come to me. I’m always happy to help.”

Spock’s dark eyes simply watch him for a moment.

“I shall remember that, Chris. Thank you.”

The lieutenant ducks into the head to wipe his face before leaving. Chris watches him go, his own emotions still roiling. _He’ll be okay. He’ll come through this and be fine._ Giving himself another moment, Chris wipes his own face and heads for the bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just remember there's one more chapter and I promise you a happy ending!


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a happy ending and I always make good on my promises :)

**The _USS Enterprise_ , Earth orbit, 2264**

It’s a bittersweet day. Chris has wanted to return to Earth for some time now, but the Enterprise has always felt like home. He knows her engines and corridors and Jeffries tubes like the back of his hand. He could walk her blindfolded. _Now someone else will have to learn her the same way._ His fingers drift upward, fidgeting with the slight grey at his temples.

The doors to the small meeting room whoosh open, revealing an agitated Spock. Chris can recognize all Spock’s subtle emotions, somehow always could.

“Chris, is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“You’ve given up command of the Enterprise? You’re leaving-“

His mouth snaps shut too fast, leaving the unsaid ‘me’ hanging in the air.

“Yes, Spock, I’ve given up command of the Enterprise. We’ve been there for over eleven years now. That’s quite a long time in the scheme of things. We’ve… come a long way.”

Spock is still upset, agitation and fear and sadness hanging over him. Chris steps closer, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“You have come a long way, Spock. You came to the Enterprise a young lieutenant, with plenty to prove but unsure how to prove it. You were excited and afraid and lonely… Now look at you: a Starfleet commander, the lead Science officer, First Officer of a Constitution-class starship. You have a lot to offer Starfleet, Spock, and it would be selfish of me to keep you all to myself,” Chris smiles.

“But, sir, I don’t-“

“No need to worry, though, because I handpicked my replacement. He’s young, but he has good experience. He’s a diplomat first and a soldier second… and he’d like to keep you on as First Officer, if you’re amenable to that, of course.”

“I shall have to meet him first.”

“And you will. I do think you’ll like him, Spock.”

As if on cue, the next captain of the Enterprise comes in, and Chris can’t hide his smile.

xXxXx

The man is fairly young, with thick hair the color of bronze and eyes like honey, his frame muscular but soft. His grin brightens the room like the sun.

“Hello, you must be CDR Spock,” he greets him, “I’m Commander- excuse me, Captain James Kirk. The rank is still a bit new. CPT Pike has told me wonderful things about you. I was hoping I could convince you to stay on as First Officer for a bit.”

Spock doesn’t even have to think about it.

“Captain Kirk, it would be my pleasure.”

Kirk grins impossibly brighter, and Spock ignores Pike’s knowing smile in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> I loved the idea of trying to make this all still fit into the canon of 'The City on the Edge of Forever' and play with a few of the characters and quotes. If Edith changed her hair color and personality slightly as a result of all this, I think it feasible Spock wouldn't recognize her almost ten years down the road, but she would certainly remember Spock, and she would recognize this Jim Kirk as looking like her Jim Kirk. The line 'Where would you estimate we belong, Miss Keeler?' - 'You? At his side, as if you've always been there and always will,' definitely informed that choice. It's so fun to play with the canon.
> 
> Again, thank you to all who read and enjoyed this fic!


End file.
